


Gilded Cages

by Girlfriend_ScD



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slavery, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlfriend_ScD/pseuds/Girlfriend_ScD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They called themselves the Harbingers of Night, humans called them vampires. In a world taken over by sensual bloodthirsty creatures, the boys find themselves in golden chains and gilded cages, questioning if they ever wanted to be set free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, and Zayn Malik are property of Syco…just kidding! I have no idea who has legal proprietary rights over the boys' image/likeness/etc...but I do know that it is not me. So any recognizable person(s) - including but not limited to: family members, staff, romantic partners, etc...- and their likenesses is used in a purely fictitious manner and I am not earning or collecting anything of value, monetary or otherwise.
> 
> As for any original content: any likeness, similarities, or resemblance to actual persons (living dead or undead) places, and events are unintentional and purely coincidental.

Harry Styles had always thought, the odd time he even thought about it at all, when Humanity lost its dominion over the Earth it would be to an alien species and there would be a massive revolt that ended in their victory.

 

Certainly Humanity had always been painted as never losing hope and having such tenacity that no matter what enemy came their way, all nations the world over would ban together and fight their new common foe. The ability for Humanity, at least in fiction, to come together would be their saving grace.

 

Instead, when the creatures that called themselves the Harbingers of Night came, Humanity lost its foothold on Earth in less than a week.

 

They called themselves the Harbingers, humans called them vampires.

 

There was no great battle, no final conflict after many; it was only an onslaught against crippled governments and armies unprepared for such slaughter.

 

He was with his mates on the Swedish leg of their world tour when the power went out all over the world. Every infrastructure was disabled and no one knew what was going on until the swarm of Harbingers invaded every town. They and their tour group had tried to flee; it was easier when they were in the middle of the country between venues. But they could not run for long. Their bus driver was unfamiliar with the roads and their GPS wasn’t functional.

 

The Harbingers were vulnerable to the sun as human legends had said but they were not the only ones in the fight. There were werewolves or Lykos as they called themselves. Humanity never stood a chance as they were attacked night **and** day.

 

When they were finally caught, there were some Harbingers that wore a crest of blackthorns surrounding a white rose in profile. They killed every member of their tour group; all the dancers, musicians, managers, and bodyguards. Only Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn were left alive. They spoke in a language they didn’t understand and sounded nothing like anything they had ever heard. There was almost a melodic quality to the words what poured out of their fanged mouths and they were watched with bejeweled eyes. The boys were all covered in soot from the battered burning cities and from the ground as they awaited their fate.

 

They would not join their coworkers in death, they were being saved for something special and that made them all fear for the worst. There were rumors of being sent to a blood farm, other prisoners whispered as they were transported on a dark train. It was not a cargo train but a regular commercial one. They were headed back to England as far as they could tell. They made several stops as they picked up and dropped off passengers. All humans held against their will but could not escape as each vampire could outrun the train they were on.

 

The tv stations had been revived in order for their new overlords to explain what was happening to humanity. It was a hostile takeover from beings of a realm on a different plane of existence. They didn’t go into great detail of how they won Earth but that their new futures were to begin. Some were sent to blood farms, humans grown as cattle and slaughtered the same. Not just for blood but for their meat as well. The Lykos needed human hearts and liver as the vampires needed blood. Not all were doomed to such a fate. Others would be taken in as servants to either faction as were needed. There were talks of the vampires taking sex slaves, regardless for the human’s sexual preference. There were all sorts of tales already swirling about, how the Lykos liked to set up monthly hunts for their flesh by releasing humans into the wild then running them down. The Harbingers had feasts where they would gorge themselves on blood and sex; each story sounding more horrifying than the last.

 

He didn’t know which fate sounded the worst, a lifetime of servitude to be killed on a whim or confinement and a quick death to feed the masses. Harry didn’t think he and the others could be even more confused until they were taken to Buckingham Palace.

 

They were washed and given a set of plain grey cotton pants and shirts. They were all bound in black chains; their caretakers warned them they wore slave chains made from onyx silver. The precious metal mined from the Baleful Mountains of the Shadowlands and seeped in magic. It was unbreakable and could only be taken off by the master of the chains. Who that was, he was afraid to find out. They were also given citrine talismans called Babel stones that were mounted on iron collars. When they were first captured, none of them could understand the song like language of the Harbingers. Apparently they were deemed unworthy of learning the language and impatient for them to understand orders, they were to be given magical artifacts that forced their understanding. Everything they heard was translated into perfect English although the vampire’s voices still held the same melodic tones.

 

They were then led to the Throne room of the estate. The red walls were replaced with black velvet and the actual thrones were black marble. Portraits of the British Monarchy were taken down and any trace of the House of Windsor or any of its predecessors were wiped out and replaced with the new ruling family.

 

The old Royal Dynasty had been eradicated, even the newly married Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. He supposed the child she had was lucky never know past his first birthday, that Prince George would not have to know such a world. The new establishment was not interested in keeping any of the old leaders of their newly acquired world. Every president, monarch, or dictator that led every country in the world was executed publicly. The Harbingers and Lykos were not afraid to throw around their might and establish themselves as the sole rulers of Earth.

 

Where their beloved Queen would sit in honor, now sat her complete polar opposite; looking grim and unimpressed with them. Queen Elizabeth II was small woman, no taller than 1.63m and reminded him of his own grandmother if she were born royal. The man in front of him was a towering male over two meters and greying hair. He was one of the few Harbingers that looked as if he had some years on him. Most were youthful looking, the oldest besides the one before him probably in their early thirties. No one knew much about them, only speculation based on their own mythologies of the creatures so he had no idea how they aged if they did at all. Or if they were all immortals creatures, frozen at the age they were made.

 

The Harbinger that now sat on the throne looked to be no more than his late forties but built like an ox; he was solid and muscular, square shoulders and a perpetual neutral face that betrayed nothing.

 

He obviously fashioned himself King as he had an ornate black crown of onyx and black diamonds, the diadem wrought to look like black thorns or flames reaching up to deadly points. Above him Harry saw a canopy of estate with the same badge of the soldiers that had captured them. A single white rosebud crowned with black thorns. Silver thread embroidered underneath in a language he couldn’t read. He assumed it was some sort of family motto or words. He wondered how a culture from a different realm could be similar to theirs from centuries ago.

 

There were what looked to be courtiers that made up the rest of the audience, Harbingers of all races and ethnicities. All with sparkling eyes of every jewel Harry had ever seen and looked at the new arrivals with curiosity. Some had started to murmur among themselves, wondering what would be done with them.

 

He found himself angry to see that he recognized several of them. They were members of Parliament or the House of Lords. He had heard that part of their new masters’ campaign had been accomplished with the aid of willing humans. Their own kind had betrayed them to the vampires and in exchange they were “Embraced”, the Harbingers word for becoming one of them.

 

They were all dressed strangely in fabrics he couldn’t identify. Their dress reminded him of his lessons about the War of the Roses; the females in impossibly tight corsets and petticoats, the men in doublets. Each had intricate and flowing designs of what looked like vines or brocade. The only difference was the presence of metalwork that looked almost as if it was to double as armor. The females favored three section articulated armor rings that were sharpened like claws, ready to pierce a vein in an unwilling human’s throat. The men thick gantlets studded with precious gems. Both favored metal belts that spanned their midsection, protecting their vulnerable stomachs.

 

He wasn’t sure why they would wear such garb as they were all faster than the eye could see. He didn’t know what they were protecting themselves from.

 

There was a girl their age; at least she looked like it, no more than twenty that also stood on the dais, next to the king. She was dressed far more richly than anyone there. She forwent the armor adornments and instead wore a silver and ruby choker that glittered even in low light. She too wore a crown, a much smaller coronet of pitch black precious gems. In her raven hair that was brushed back severely there were several white rosebuds weaved in, like white stars in a black sky. She had the same features as the man in the throne but softer and delicate. He could tell they were related. His daughter perhaps?

 

She too did not look impressed by the five that kneeled before them.

 

If no one seemed to care for their presence, why were they there?

 

Harry’s question was soon answered as soon as he heard the familiar squeal of a young pre-teen girl.

 

“Ohhh my gods, thank you father! You found them! Ahhhhh!” a high pitched shout of excitement broke the somber ambience of the room.

 

Before he knew it, a girl of fourteen or fifteen entered the throne room and ran, his eyes almost unable to register her form, in front of each of them. He felt like a prized puppy a young girl all too happy to get for her birthday.

 

She was not dressed as the other vampires. She looked as if she could have been any of their fans. She wore a black tulle skirt and fishnet leggings. A white tank top with a rose outline was the brightest thing in the room. Several bangles donned her wrist and several strings of pearls finished her outfit.

 

Harry wondered if his life was about to end because of an over enthusiastic fan, his past jokes becoming all too real, because she looked as if she was about to strangle them from being too excited. He had seen how powerful the creatures were, able to crumble bones as if they were dry leaves in autumn.

 

It was unsettling to hear such an average looking girl, who was clearly also a fan, talk about them as if they were nothing more than toys. Harry had gotten used to being objectified by his fans. Knowing of their dreams to marry them or merely debauching them in homoerotic fanfiction. He knew most of them didn’t see them as real people. Just placeholders to imagine their perfect boyfriend without actually needing to know they were real flawed people just like anyone else.

 

The girl, however, literally talked about them as if they were nothing more than playthings to be used for her pleasure and discarded just as easily. The petit girl in the tutu went on about how she was going to dress them and even started to describe the depraved things she couldn’t wait to do. The born vampires merely looked bored and stayed silent to humor her. The made vampires looked scandalized that such a young girl, or anyone, would speak of such things out loud.

 

If Myna was several centuries younger she was certain she wouldn’t have been able to keep her face placid while her younger sister gushed over the human captives. She was certain her eyes would have rolled out of her head in exasperation and truly couldn’t believe the same proud Blackthorn blood ran through both of them. It wasn’t anything new that their father would spoil his youngest although she felt that sending her own men to hunt the five before them was beneath her and them. But Mynos was not only her father but King of the Shadowlands and the new human realm called Earth. If he ordered her to hunt down attractive males that her sister Myra took a fancy to and would probably add to her legion of progeny then she would obey. They weren’t hard to track down and they acquiesced easily.  

 

The males were barely into manhood but her sister had never been too picky when it came to Embracing. Myna would admit that they were particularly attractive for humans but unsure if they were worth all the fuss. The little she did pay attention to human media while living in the realm and planning their attack, she knew they were singers especially popular with the younger human female population. The nobility of the Shadowlands did love their entertainment, so she was certain they would make a nice addition to Myra’s harem.

 

No one was more surprised than Myna when King Mynos decreed,

 

“They aren’t for you my delicate flower,” he used the term of endearment but there could be no mistake in his tone, he wasn’t to be argued with.

 

Harry was certain he could hear the girl’s heart break in two, her mouth dropped and quivered slightly with disappointment, and she looked like she was about to cry. It appeared she wanted to argue but refrained. She looked around to see if it was some sort of joke or if someone could possibly talk sense into him but none was forth coming.

 

Though both of his daughters were surprised, his eldest daughter kept her face neutral but his youngest had never learned the fine art of masking her emotions. Myra knew enough to keep silent but her face fell in utter anguish and he worried she would start to burst into tears.

 

“You have too many humans and progeny in your household, you don’t need anymore.”

 

“That’s not true! I only have fifty…or so progeny,” she tried to argue, not even truly knowing how many she had Embraced, “And only a couple hundred Pets. And only half of those are in my harem.”

 

“When we first conquered this realm you were given free reign and you’ve been given plenty of singers, you don’t need five more.”

 

“I only have Justin Bieber, Nathan Sykes, Cody Simpson, Hunter Hayes…” she stared to list off but then remembered who exactly she was talking too. Although she was the coddled and, in her opinion, favored daughter she knew she was pushing her luck. She might be a princess of the Shadowlands and blood of the right and mighty King Mynos, her mouth and disrespect was about to get her into deep trouble. If not from her father then from her boring sister who would have no trouble ripping out her tongue for her insolence.

 

“I mean, if that is your wish then I will obey,” she meekly although she was far from sincere.

 

Myna was as surprised as her younger sister but was too schooled in the art of proper decorum to be as blatant about it. The most she could do was raise a questioning eyebrow and wondered to whom would her father give the humans to if not her impetuous younger sibling. She looked around the room and tried to remember if any favored courtier was present and if they ever had an interest in a pop group. All the born Harbingers would not have known who One Direction was and the newly made hadn’t contributed much besides surrendering, so she couldn’t fathom their father gifting five young and virile men, men who would have years of beauty and blood to give.

 

“They are for your sister Myna,” The king finally revealed.

 

In her surprised she did forget the last couple of centuries of etiquette and whirled her head quickly towards her father and glowered at him.

 

He had to be joking. Never in her wildest dreams did she think her father would dump a quintet of humans on her, knowing she had plenty of servants and the like; she did not need more nor did she want any.

 

A quick look from shook her out of her angry shock and she remembered her place.

 

“Thank you father, they are more than I deserve,” she responded coolly.

 

Her sister Myra perked up, thinking that her sister having slaves was just as good as having them herself. Myna was never one to horde or be miserly with her slaves. Whenever she visited Nightshade, the seat of her sister in the Shadowlands, Myna never restricted the number of human servants she could enjoy.

 

“Oh how delightful! We shall hold a bloodfeast at Nightshade and I’ll…” Myra was suddenly cut off as her sister rushed to her and held her by her neck in a death grip.

 

Harry could hear the bones break in the young girl’s neck and blood dripped from her mouth from the pressure her sister put on her. The next thing we knew was the elder daughter’s other hand had struck the girl’s unprotected midsection and pierced through. Although it would have killed an ordinary human, it mostly seemed uncomfortable to the young Harbinger.

 

“You forget yourself dear sister. You are not to invite yourself to my home as if you lived there. You are not to touch my slaves without my permission. Perhaps I’ve been guilty of spoiling you as well, letting you feed from my servants at your will; nearly killing them but no more. Step one foot on my estate without my permission and you’ll see yourself without feet…and perhaps more limbs torn from you.”

 

Despite Myra’s inability to speak, her vocal cords torn to pieces from her crushed spinal bones and all, it was clear she understood her sister’s message loud and clear from the bewildered look on her eyes.

 

The boys looked to the king, expecting him to stop his almost murderous older child from killing her younger sister but it seemed he was not inclined to do anything of the sort. He merely looked impatient for the little spat to be over with.

 

Myna without ceremony released her sister, the girl falling to the floor in a heap and coughing out blood and bone. In the older girl’s hand was what Harry could only guess was Myra’s liver and Myna tossed that aside as if it were a used tissue. She then turned her amber eyes to them, causing them to shake in fear as they imagined the horrors she would reign upon them if she could treat her own flesh and blood in such a way.

 

Although she did not have much sympathy for humans, she also knew a life under her sister was not something she would wish on her worst enemy. She contemplated the five before her, none of them looking like they’d be much of use on an estate. Myna could guess one of the reasons her father bestowed the young men to her and she couldn’t think of a reason off hand to refuse them, even if she did she wouldn’t because she was certain her father would just give them to her sister. Or send them off to the blood farms.

 

Normally she wouldn’t have a problem with that, the lower class of Harbingers needed to feed as well and didn’t have the means to keep blood slaves. But the baseborn were often worse than Myna in how they fed off of humans and she wouldn’t get started on the savage Lykos. The boys wouldn’t last a week and would probably be fed off of several coarse and brutish Harbingers before they finally found the peace of death. And looking in the long curly haired one’s eyes, something about them moved her. He didn’t want to die but he didn’t want the others to as well. Most would be cowering and inching away from their fellow captives. Their body language stating that they could take the others, just not him. The green eyed one kneeled as tall as he could, positioning his body in an almost protective stance.

 

Although crazy, she decided she would honor her father’s wishes.

 

“Querra,” she called to the side. A servant in black approached with a gleaming silver collar and runes etched into the mantle. She was dressed far better than any human, he could tell by the lack of ethereal jewel toned glow to her eyes, he had come across since being captured. “Fit them with gold collars. Remove their tattoos and brand them with the Blackthorn crest. Make them fit for service at Nightshade.”

 

Harry swallowed hard, fearing how painful the removal of his tattoos were going to be and sad they were going to erase a part of his identity. Still, it wasn’t the instant death he was expecting; given her initial dismissive sneer when they first walked in. He also counted it as a blessing they weren’t going to be separated and they weren’t going to the younger girl. At least with being told they would be in service that meant they would live. He didn’t understand the king’s approving nod and smile at his daughter’s actions or the bewildered and almost jealous look of the well dressed slaves. At least from what he could see of the woman who escorted them out, they would be at least well taken care of.

 

Before they left the presence of the king, he dismissed all present so that he may have a private moment with his children.

 

As soon as the last courtier left, Myna braced herself for the same lecture she had gotten for the last half century.

 

“It’s about time you came around, dearest. People were starting to talk about how soft you were on your human slaves. I’m glad you finally decided to honor a handful of humans to be your body slaves. I didn’t know your tastes ran so…lithe,” the king started on.

 

“Years of freedom and the sun seemed to do humans good, father. Much better than the pale ones that inhabit the Shadowland. I rather like the exotic sunkissed look,” Myna wasn’t lying; she did think the boys were particularly good looking. And she had heard the rumors about how queer the people thought her, thinking that treating humans as if they were Harbingers was appalling and gauche but unwilling to say anything to her face as she would have no trouble removing an organ or two as shown by her treatment of her sister. While she didn’t believe in abusing her slaves, it didn’t mean she would allow disrespect. Her father had been on her for a while to have a retinue of personal body slaves, humans they used for blood and sex; the closest humans that would attend to her needs, both physically and nutritionally. People thought it odd she never engaged in even one since coming of age but now in front of the entire court, she proved she was one of them.

 

“Now all you need to do is Embrace a few and maybe bear some future heirs? Hmmm?”

 

Myna was a little more than done with the conversation and it took everything in her to not rail at her father. She would Embrace or bear future Harbingers when she was damn well and ready and not a moment sooner.

 

“Is that what you want me to do father? Have a horde of progeny like Myra?”

 

“Her progeny are little better than bastards and you know it. None of them are fit to have Blackthorn blood flowing through their veins; certainly none of them are fit to sire heirs.”

 

Her younger sister was still recovering from her onslaught and immediately regretting her growl, annoyed that she was being talked about as if she weren’t there and offended that her Embracing practices were being derided. Myna again put her sister in her place, placing a swift kick to the girl’s head; forcing it to snap back in an unnatural position. It was enough to knock the Harbinger out cold.

 

King Mynos shook his head, regretting spoiling his daughter so. At her age she should not have to be disciplined in such a way but with trying to take over the human realm of Earth, he simply didn’t have time.

 

“Your sister will be fostered with the Lykos clan Kardia. She will learn to hold her tongue and behave or die trying.”

 

That night was full of surprises. Guess her father now being king of two realms forced him to realize that his youngest heir needed some hard lessons. Nothing harder than living with the wolves.

 

“You will Embrace within the year and you will bear heirs. A dynasty is not secure unless there are children to carry on the legacy. Either choose one of your Embraced or a noblemen from a Great House to sire them but I will not let you or your sister endanger the bloodline of our Royal House. You will inherit the Shadowlands and Myra or one of your children will have Earth. Am I clear?”

 

She cursed the gods for giving her such a flighty sister that caused their father to worry so that he thought the bloodline was in danger of dying off. She knew it was her duty to produce heirs, preferably with Harbingers made from her blood, but she didn’t think she’d have to do it so young. Her father was twice her age before he had her and even older when Myra was born. Still with an unstable truce with the Lykos and their claim to the throne was shallow rooted, only two generations long, she understood her father’s concern. While their kind could live thousands of years, that was only an eternity to humans.

 

While she preferred the uncomplicated life of commander of her father’s armies, war was over and it was time for peace. She had duties as heiress to the throne and her sister as the new Duchess of the Great Isle, formally known as Britain.

 

“Of course, father. With your leave I will head back to Nightshade and break in my new body slaves.”

 

“Do you not like the new world we have conquered?”

 

“The humans are advanced in technology but it has come at the price of the very land that houses them. Every inch they inhabit is polluted and almost barren. I’ll come back in a couple decades, let the land and air recover.”

 

“You will come back at the new year to celebrate Feast of Eternal Twilight.”

 

“I will be back in six moons then,” she acquiesced, unwilling to fight with her father. With his permission, she headed towards her chambers and instructed her slaves to ready the newly branded boys and her things.

 

She couldn’t wait to get out of the realm the gods had forsaken.


	2. Chapter 2

The tattoo removal process hurt less than he expected it to. Harry had heard horror stories of scorching lasers that hurt ten times as worse than getting inked in the first place. It was something that always was repeated to him by family members or good intentioned strangers before he got any new art put to his skin. It was all to make sure that he was confident in what he was doing, and to erase them would not be worth getting them in the first place. He did not heed their advice, assured that even with old age and the passing of time he would never regret a single tattoo.

Now that he and his brothers had no choice, he was grateful the Harbingers and their slaves knew magic. They were led to an ornate bathroom, probably used by the old Queen herself, that had an enormous soak in tub. Harry at first thought they were in some kind of small pool room, but with the vanity and sink, it was apparent it was the Royal loo. The slave called Querra took various jars filled with unidentifiable herbs and stones, and gently dropped them into the water; all the while whispering in the melodic accent of the Harbingers. She was speaking too lowly for him to understand anything she was saying, he could only catch one or two words; mostly about “cleansing the unworthy” and speaking to a god he was not familiar with. The water churned on its own volition, and became a shimmering turquoise; then they were made to go in one at a time.

They were disrobed, and if it weren’t for years of touring and living in close quarters, they would have been shy around each other in their nudity. Still out of politeness, none of them stared at the other. All were looking dead ahead as they weren’t sure to turn their gaze. Looking at the way princess Myna treated her sister for disrespect, they did not want to share the same fate. Not all the slaves where human, a few were Harbingers and they feared those slaves had enough authority to discipline them harshly.

Their collars were taken away, and with them their ability to understand their captors. The ceremony continued with the servants motioning for them to step into the tub.

Harry volunteered to go first, wanting to be strong for the others. He showed no fear as he was guided into the gently steaming water. The bath was uncomfortably hot, but not unbearably so. He felt the water and magic seep into his skin, and he saw his flesh turn from gorgeously tan from his holiday in Spain to an angry lobster red. The water felt as if there were miniscule jet streams whirling around his body, the potion saturating his skin. When he was told to get out, he felt like his entire body was suffering from serious sunburn. He winced as it hurt to move, aggravating the tender skin. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, mostly the artwork magically disappearing before his eyes, but his tattoos where still there.

“ _Did it not work? Do I have to go back into the water_?” he worried to himself as he stood still and the other servants went about their duties. He still couldn’t understand them as they spoke around him, never to him as if where a pampered dog getting groomed, and he dared not speak unless spoken to.

While the pain was tolerable, he wasn’t sure if he could go another round. A slave brought over a tan salve and started to rub the concoction all over him; from head to toe and places that had no tattoo. It was jarringly cold, but after a moment of getting used to the feeling, it started to feel soothing. The redness was fading and as his skin turned to its normal hue, he saw that along with the redness his ink was wiping away. Soon, his entire body was bare and it was as if he were sixteen again. Sure his body had filled out since then, and muscles were still present, but there was no proof of how time had gone otherwise. No butterfly tattoo, none of the many tiny miscellaneous tattoos he got on a whim or because they reminded him of someone. Not even the cherished “Gemma” tattoo he got for his beloved sister, whom he started to tear up for because her fate was unknown to him.

They slowly erased precious memories, and all he had left were his brothers and his life.

One by one they all received the same treatment.

They were then all dressed in pristine white silk loose pants, no underwear or anything else. They were left bare otherwise, and it was a far cry from the plain grey cotton they received before. The other slaves were all busy preparing something and going about their duties efficiently with seemingly no direction, and the boys were left to their own devices in the meantime; the sing-song cadence of the Harbinger language becoming background music.

They all took a moment to look at their new bodies in the grand mirror along the walls, still unbelieving that every inch of ink was rubbed away as if it never were. While he didn’t like it, Harry could at least appreciate he still had his life and the life of his bandmates. Tattoo removal was probably the easiest thing they would have to go through. There could also be something said about not being owned by what seemed to be a young and immature Harbinger with impulse control problems. It was also unnerving to think of what he younger princess had in mind for them, she made no attempt to hide the lust in her eyes as she looked them up and down. His stomach twisted inside of him as he worried it wasn’t a fate he had totally escaped from just yet. He didn’t know what the elder princess was like behind closed doors, and he could only hope they didn’t hide a sadistic mistress who had a kink for suffering members of boybands.

Zayn, who had the most ink, seemed to take it in stride. While also disappointed, there was an air of defeated acceptance. He, like the rest of them, had no choice in the matter; there was no point in getting upset over tattoos. They all still had their life, and that was much more than most of the human population had. Louis and Niall were too nervous to care either way about their ink. Both didn’t have as many as Harry or Zayn, but it was still a personally invasive procedure that proved they did not belong to themselves any longer.

The one who seemed to be taking it the worst was Liam. The doe eyed member of their group had tears well up, and he was doing his best to not let them fall. Harry felt for one of his best friends, he wasn’t sure what he could say to make the situation better. There was nothing he really could say, but he was determined to be there for his brothers. He laid a comforting hand on Liam’s bare shoulder. He jumped slightly, surprised at the contact but also determined to be just as strong. He wiped away the tears before they could fall, feeling kind of foolish and grateful he wasn’t alone in this.

“They’re just tattoos mate…most of them were pretty silly. Especially mine. That naked girl…what was I thinking?” Harry tried to lighten the mood.

Liam smiled, the first time since they were captured.

“I know, it’s not the tattoos…it’s…”

“It’s what?” Harry encouraged, knowing that his best friend was embarrassed to admit something.

“My birthmark.”

“Birthmark?” Of the things Liam would be upset about, it never occurred to Harry that would be one of them. For a moment, in all of the stressful things that had happened in the last couple weeks, he completely forgot about Liam’s small dark patch of skin.

Liam motioned to his neck, and Harry noticed that his birthmark, along with tattoos, had been washed away. Harry quickly looked into the mirror, and realized that it wasn’t just the ink they had taken away. It was every kind of mark or blemish they had. His skin was smooth and soft, no sign of acne or even a bit of dry skin. The more he looked, the more he thought he looked like an airbrushed model on the cover of a magazine, only in real life.

He felt almost alien to see himself looking so picture perfect.

“I’m not me anymore,” Liam said after a moment of silence. Harry finally got what his friend was dismayed about. It was more than just taking away their ink. The Harbingers wanted flawlessness, and were erasing the little imperfections that made them human.

Harry felt they were turning into dolls. Toys for the Harbingers to play with. He felt like a polished figurine, ready to be given to a birthday girl.

Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if his life was all that worth having if he couldn’t even be a ghost of himself.

With Earth conquered and every Harbinger or Lykos put in places of power, Myna was free to return to the Shadowlands. Her father’s reign was secure, and the House of Blackthorn had more riches and land to last them several generations. No other great House in the Shadowlands even held a candle to their honor or resources.

Father was placated, but Myna was agitated at her year deadline to embrace someone or whelp the next Blackthorn heir; her father preferring both. She had managed to put it off for centuries, but it seemed as if her number was up.

Her personal retinue of grooming slaves was used to her moods, knowing enough to work efficiently and quietly without gossiping as they prepared her clothes and styled her hair becomingly. Even though she was merely traveling from one realm to the next, there was still expected extensive ceremony and decorum. The people of both realms would see her traveling, and they expected her to appear a certain dignified way. Head to toe in rich fabrics and jewels, lacking armor to prove she had no fear of anyone. Only the strongest of their kind wore bare clothes with no protective covering.

No Blackthorn ever wore armor unless they rode in battle. Only the weaker Houses and peasants wore shielding clothing, as her father taught her from birth.

Though her kind derided the humans of the Earth realm, Myna thought their vast array of colors was a magic in its own. Their sun appeared daily and their color palette ran into the thousands.

She was particularly fond of their vibrant shade of red they called pink. Her new damask gown was what they called Fuchsia Rose, with gold veins and other patterns stitched in. In certain lights, the fabric had a purple sheen and iridescent green flecks. It was nothing that the Shadowlands had ever seen or could ever dream of. Their world made of up nothing but cool tones, varying shades of grey, blue, and black. There was the occasional bloom of the Moon Rose, a pristine pearleascent flower that grew at Nightshade, but it was nothing compared to the vivacious array of flowers that grew on Earth. She was bringing some specimens to the Shadowlands, but suspected that they would wither and die without the nourishing rays of their sun.

Still, she could hope.

She wondered if she could have a pick of the cache of humans they called “scientists.” Given their ability to conquer the skies, she was certain someone could figure out how to make the flora grow. She also wanted to charge them with replicating the technology they had but without such horrible consequences of pollution. Imagine what it could do for both realms, have all the advancement without destroying the very world that housed and fed them.

Thoughts for another time.

So all of her things were packed, and she was ready to head to her true home.

When the servants in the Blackthrorne livery, with Myna’s personal sigil added to deem them hers, prepared the gateway between realms, she remembered the five humans that she had publicly named as her personal body slaves; slaves that would service her not just in blood, but sex and companionship. Slaves that were expected to eventually become embraced, and possibly even her betrothed.

An honored position slaves strived to since they started service, an honor handed to the ones that called themselves One Direction on a silver platter and she foresaw more than a few of her current slaves being a little more than resentful of.

She didn’t owe any of them an explanation, and she was fully prepared to impress that lesson onto any that felt otherwise. She would have enough to deal with training the five she was given, she didn’t think she would have the patience to deal with hurt feelings.

She had little tolerance with the males of her kind and of her realm, she had no idea how to handle those of Earth. Especially pampered near princes who she feared would die under the harsh Harbinger tutelage that would make them decent for service at Nightshade.

Myna gave a deep impatient sigh and silently cursed her father for not indulging her little sister, the one time it would have been convenient towards her. The five probably would have died from eventual neglect from her flighty sister, but that wouldn’t be **her ** problem.

At least they knew to keep their eyes downcast and silent. It showed her that they had a survival instinct. She was glad to see the ink removed although admitted to herself she rather liked the artwork the humans were able to etch into their skins. Permanent scars intricately engraved onto their bodies, knowing how painful it had to be to get and admiring them willing to do it. While she didn’t understand what a lot of the symbols or art meant, she could appreciate the way the lines looked upon their tan skins. But for body slaves, they could not retain the vestiges of their human lives. It would better for them in the long run, to get it ingrained into their heads they were hers and the only adornment they could have would be the gold collars and her personal sigil burned onto their skins. While she knew it burned and probably hurt beyond anything they had ever experienced in their comfortable lives, they had magical salves that healed them immediately. It wouldn’t do for them to show in public with angry red and healing burns. She also knew humans to be fragile and had odd ailments. She had read in their history that humans could die from small wounds. Their modern medicine had helped with their mortality, but it seemed to her their primitive medicines hindered more than helped. That the side effects of their pills and potions were worse than the illness the humans had in the first place. While a good portion of their population was currently food, the few privileged ones would no longer know sickness or poverty. More than what the humans could boast when they were left to their own devices.

Their population was now controlled, they would never again know a plague, and they would never know hunger. All the Harbingers asked for in return were their service. Humans could clearly not look well after themselves, so Harbingers took their rightful place and made things right.

The traveling party was led to the courtyard of the palace. A great tent was erected and held the other members of the new Royal family. Canopies of estate stood proudly over them and banners with the Blackthorn sigil whipped in the free air. It was nearing midnight, but with the population being allergic to the sun; they were out in droves and were all eager to see the departing princess.

Harry saw the younger princess standing rigid next to her father; he would never have known that her elder sister nearly killed her if he hadn’t seen it himself. Harbingers had amazing healing ability and he only hoped they remembered humans did not.

Myra was dressed in traditional Harbinger attire of heavy brocade and intricate petticoat’s. There was another man who towered next to her; his dress a lot less formal, as if he didn’t care for the formal occasion and only dressed for comfort and utility. A simple tan tunic over dark brown leather pants. He couldn’t have been a vampire as his skin as obviously kissed by the sun, for several years if his worn face was any indication. In no way did the lines on his face detract from his looks. Where the Harbinger’s were a cold beauty, living statues, he had a swarthy rugged handsomeness. Something Harry had read in one of his mother’s bodice rippers.

His errant thought brought a tear to his eye and he couldn’t stop it that time. He hated to appear weak in front of such deadly creatures, but the thought of his mother proved too much. He was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness that he would never see her again. Even if she were alive, part of him hoped she was not as he did not wish her the fate of a slave, he would undoubtedly never see her again as he was going to another realm within the next ten minutes.

The thought of never seeing his beautiful mother again, it made everything hurt; hurt that burned deeper than the bath; hurt that lingered and would haunt. The hurt of loss. His vision blurred as the tears welled up and pain burst behind his eyes as he strained to keep them from falling. He dipped his head, hoping that he looked respectful and properly submissive; trying to discreetly wipe them away. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a supportive squeeze. He looked behind him and saw Zayn’s warm eyes and encouraging smile.

Eyes that said they were in this together and they would get through this. They could get through anything.

The crowd bowed or curtsied deeply, paying their respects to their princess and heiress apparent. Harry and the other four boys went to their knees, doing as their handler Querra instructed them to before they joined the procession.

Myna curtsied only to the king, keeping her head down and her form prostrated until he gave permission for her to rise.

“Your Majesty,” Myna said respectfully, her father nodded and motioned for her to rise.

“Do not fear the light,” The king said the traditional good-bye.

“I remain un-armored,” the princess replied.

“The night is ours,” the crowd echoed.

The words were odd to Harry’s ears and he did not understand the meaning. He hoped that his training for his new life included cultural lessons. He did not want his life to end because of an innocent faux pas.

“Rolf of House Kardia, you honor me,” she politely told the gentleman, totally ignoring her sister. It was an obvious snub, but there was nothing Myra could do. The younger princess was several centuries her junior and never bothered to learn to fight. Myra was used to a pampered existence but that was over; Rolf was her warden as well as a jailor.

She was about to pay for her decadent lifestyle, she looked longingly at the five in gold collars and the purest moonspun silk. Extravagant for her normally no-frills sister, but clearly the elder Blackthorn was trying to make a statement.

The boys were hers and she was royalty. The Blackthorn rose and ring of thorns adorned their bodies, as well as the jagged daggers crossed behind that hailed it as Myna’s personal badge. Myra could not boast having earned such, and probably never would. She had thought simply being a Blackthorn was honor enough. The younger sibling never understood the need to go through so much trouble as winning land or defeating Lykos clans to differentiate herself. Myna would be rich no matter what and comfortable. Why go through so much unpleasantness just to get a special badge? The normal Blackthorn crest was good enough for her.

She didn’t understand it, but it mattered to her sister and it especially mattered to their father. Now that Earth was won, he decided she needed to be a “proper” Blackthorn, and she was going to be shipped off to the continent formerly called Australia. She did not look forward to it, but if she wanted her inheritance of Britain then she would need to fall in line.

How hard could it be if her sister could do it? Maybe she would follow in Myna’s footsteps and kill Rolf as her sister had done to the late Kardia patriarch. Maybe her personal badge would have double swords that symbolized the weapons that she would drive through new head of the Lykos clan.

Myna ignored her sister, sure that her daydreaming would be beat out of her. Her sister was weak and fickle, something that would not bode well with the wolves. Although she could not say her own time with the wolves was pleasant, it did help shape the general she was today. In the end she was able to rise and cut out the heart of a wolf clan leader; bringing them to heel under Harbinger rule. With them, she was able to conquer an entire realm despite their technological and advanced weaponry.

Perhaps they would discover another realm for them to conquer, with Myra at the helm.

Three realms conquered and led by Blackthorn blood, appealed to Myna immensely.

She could only hope.


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage and horses they were all led to were immense. The animals bigger than anything Harry had ever seen, bigger even than the Budwieser Clydesdales he had seen on the American Superbowl commercials. The carriage was large enough to hold a small efficiency flat, and he wondered how long it would take between realms; how would they even do so with just horses and carriage?

All sorts of questions whirled through his head, wondering how things were going to go and was better to focus on the immediate issues instead of the long term ones associated with slavery.

There were smaller, less ornate carriages that stood behind the royal one. He assumed they were servant carriages, as it seemed that Myna had her own set of slaves that were just hers. He was surprised when he and the others we led to the golden carriage and into comfort. The seats were lined in satin and felt like he was sitting on clouds. The walls were gilded and had exquisite murals painted onto the roof. It seemed to depict their new mistress riding into battle and victorious. He curiously looked out the window and at all the people gathered, getting the familiar feeling of when he would be rushed into an awaiting car or limousine and fans warming after them. The Harbingers knew to not get closer than polite, but they were still eager to say goodbye to their princess. There was a sea of glowing gem eyes, and very few dull human eyes; eyes of slaves that were also curious as to the departing princess.

Strange feeling, that after so many years of being a popstar that eyes were no longer directed at him.

The boys all slid into the bench seating on one side, none of them brave enough to spread out as they knew their mistress would have to sit somewhere and didn’t think she would think them worthy of being so close to her. After a few more instances of ceremony they didn’t understand, Princess Myna finally entered into the carriage.

The respectfully bowed their heads and she didn’t acknowledge them, they all got a sense of where they were in the hierarchy as if they weren’t sure before. Querra slid in next, and although she wore a silver collar she felt comfortable enough to sit next to Myna. The princess didn’t bat an eyelash, but it seemed the footman who helped them in quirked an eyebrow and had a look of confusion on his face. Harry wondered if the different collars meant different things. He knew they were all slaves, and heard the others refer to them as “body slaves.” It certainly had a dehumanizing ring to it, but he still wasn’t sure of the chain of command. He felt the fact they had gold collars meant something. Querra obviously had some sort of seniority, but all she did so far was instruct them on simple protocols and ordered other slaves who had simple iron collars.

The carriage was on the move, it wobbled along the roads that were now devoid of any automobiles. The Harbingers didn’t appear to care for that mode of transportation, horse and carriage had come back into use for the most part. The only modern transport still in use was the train system, and that was only to transport large populations of human cargo. The road down the M5, none of them knowing where they were going other than the driver.

Myna merely looked at them, seemingly to thinking of what to say to them. They all looked awkwardly around, none of them wanting to speak out of turn.

The princess contemplated her new slaves. What did she say to body slaves? She had never had them before, and these were foreign slaves to boot. What in the world or Shadowlands could they talk about?

This was not a new issue for her, talking to others was never her strong suit. She found it painful to talk of the weather or other benign and safe topics it was deemed polite to speak of in her social circles. They wouldn’t know anything of politics or war, nothing she could and would want to speak about. She found most Harbingers couldn’t be bothered with such important issues, she doubted the apathetic humans would.

She was certain if Myra was there, she would have no trouble commandeering the conversation and holding everyone’s attention. As vapid as she found her sister, she could admit Myra was affable and well liked among the hedonistic Harbingers of royal society.

So they remained in stony silence for well over an hour, Myna wishing she employed the much faster mode of travel of automobiles. The smell they produced was rancid and it would be bad form for their environmental reforms for her to hypocritically use the contraption.

The five slaves held their head down, unsure of where to look and she didn’t correct them. She herself wasn’t sure of their place in her life. Sure she labeled them as body slaves, but that was more to get her father off her back and to ensure her sister didn’t invite herself to Nightshade and demand to feed from them, among other ways to make herself a nuisance.

They were all well-formed and handsome, each beautiful in their own way. Her eyes, however, kept being pulled towards the one with long hair and hazel eyes; almost luminescent green against dark alluring mahogany. He was the only one who would occasionally raise his head to try to look out of the window, unable to curb his curiosity as to where they were going. He seemed to have sense her eyes upon him and he looked her way, a moment of eye contact was quickly over when he realized he might be making a faux pas.

“What do they call you?” she asked, unsure which he was. She had a working knowledge of popular culture of humans but they had so many celebrities it was hard to keep track of them all.

“Har…Harry,” he stuttered out. Unsure of how to he should refer to her. He didn’t go to Eaton, he never expected to be in the presence of royalty and actually have to converse with them. The short event where he met the Queen he was given a quick rundown of protocol but beyond saying “hello you majesty” he wasn’t expected to say anything else.

He stiffened in fear when she leaned forward and caught his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. She was studying him, he wondered what she thought. Was she planning his fate and what would that entail?

“Your eyes,” she began and he remained silent, not speaking when not directly asked a question. “They’re almost Harbinger.”

He still remained silent, the others frozen as well as it was the first time the princess deigned to talk to them.

“What is your bloodline?”

His eyes scrunched in confusion, not sure what she was asking him.

“Your…” she tried to phrase it in a way they would understand. Not everything Harbinger could be translated into English and what could, didn’t always convey the exact meaning. “Family name,” was the closest she could come up with. Although with humans the name and bloodline didn’t necessary match up. They ignored the female contribution in most cases and only followed the male’s bloodline which may or may be unbroken with cuckoos.

“Styles”

That meant nothing to her, no Harbinger bloodline was close to that and there would probably be no way to trace to see if any Harbinger sired a bastard human line that managed to escape into this realm.

She studied him for a few moments more, grazing over every feature and always coming back to his almost bejeweled eyes. She thought over the different noble families, trying to figure out if anyone of them had such emerald like eyes; deep forest green with moss veins cutting through out; shards of chocolate brown breaking through depending on the light.

Without words she let go of his chin and said nothing further. She fully studied her new body slaves, taking in their beauty and wondering what she would do with her sudden possession of slaves she had no plans of owning in the first place. Each had their own unique beauty and she wasn’t surprised any longer as to why humans all but worshiped the five. Harbingers and humans both had a great appreciation of beauty. In any other natural circumstances, the five probably would have had no problem acquiring a Harbinger Maker to be Embraced.

The five remained respectfully silent, Querra thanked the gods they took to tutelage as well as they have, although they all simultaneously felt as if they were being appraised.

Myna’s eyes gravitated back to Harry and she finally spoke,

“Querra,” she then spoke to the slave next to her. “Hairy,” very strange name she thought, “will be the Prime. Please teach him and the other their place in the hierarchy. He can name the order of the other four.

The slave diligently wrote down the instructions on a table that seemed to come from nowhere, they all wondered what “Prime” meant and dreaded what the hierarchy meant. Harry swallowed hard, unsure of the new responsibility that was placed upon him but knowing he could not refuse what he could only guess was an honor.

The carriage finally game to a glen, the humans not knowing what to expect next. It was an ordinary and empty field somewhere in Windsor. The procession behind them also came to a halt, and there was not another soul in sight.

A few minutes had passed and then Harry say something strange. It seemed there was some sort of distortion a couple meters in front of the carriage. If he looked dead on, the distortion disappeared but if he tilted his head and looked away, he could see it just outside his periphery. Almost as if there were a large bent mirror in the middle of the vale, curving the ground and air.

Myna saw from the way Harry looked, he could see the window from their world to the Shadowlands. Something most humans in her experience could not. It proved to her that there was more to Harry’s bloodline and somewhere along the way, his family had come in to contact with Harbingers. The other four were looking quizzical and none of them looked as if they saw what their new Prime could see.

“You see it then?” Myna asked, wanting verbal confirmation.

“I see something,” Harry admitted, not sure what he was seeing but he knew it was **something**. His brothers all wanted to ask what was going on but none dared to. Harry started to sweat, worried that he was able to see the anomaly and the others couldn’t. He had no idea what it meant and was afraid to know. It didn’t help when Querra’s eyes closed just slightly in questioning, but said nothing.

The nearly invisible rift grew larger, seemingly at the presence of the Princess’ court. The carriage lurched forward and they continued on.

Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting, perhaps a multicolored dimensional tunnel that bridge their world into the next while they hurled through the inter-universal highway at breakneck speed, but nothing of the sort happened. The carriage moved a few meters and suddenly the sky turned from inky black to a dark azure. They were still in a field but the world was just slightly more illuminated. Nothing close to the bright light of day, but it felt as if it were no longer in the middle of the night. The grass beneath their carriage was darker, and the trees looked slightly off. Not too different from the oaks and elms of their world, but just slightly off enough for Harry to notice.

There was a peaking light on the horizon but it went no brighter, as if the sun was only allowed to come so far and no further.

The land was covered in eternal twilight, a small voice inside him said. He didn’t know where it came from, but it was something that vibrated in his blood.

Something inside him recognized this land.

That terrified him more than anything.


End file.
